


They Say

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes, Post-Season/Series 03, Rumours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: Two proud new mothers stopped their prams in the dappled shade to watch the sturdy young children clambering over the newly installed jungle gym. “I heard a rumour about that policeman,” said the woman in a smart blue hat, “you know, the good looking one that’s always in the papers.” Her red-haired friend thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean the one Rosie Sanderson used to be married to.” They looked at each other and giggled. “He is so handsome,” the redhead said dreamily.“They say he’s stepping out with someone new,” said the woman in the blue hat. The redhead looked confused. “I thought he was courting that society woman, the one that helps with his investigations.” The blue hat nodded, “Yes, that’s what everyone thought but it can’t be her because she’s flying a plane to London.” Her friend looked incredulous. “Flying a plane to London? Honestly Annie," she laughed, "you’ll believe anything.”





	They Say

The front door to his small, but smartly presented, cottage opened. In the sitting room he sat forward and tilted his head to listen. He heard someone divest themselves of a coat, place it on a hook just inside the door, and then, the distinctive sound of a woman’s heels tapping against the wooden floorboards. She started to talk at him while she was still in the hallway. “I heard an interesting rumor today...”

He relaxed back in his armchair, his eyes returning to the book in his hands. It was dark, he hadn't bothered to set the fire nor turn on any of the main lights, instead he had the floor lamp set up close to his chair which was more than enough to read by. As always, he was completely unaware of how alluring he looked, divested of jacket, waistcoat, tie; with the top buttons of his white shirt undone, his sleeves roughly rolled up and the waves of his hair glinting gold in the soft glow of the lamp.

“...about that Fisher woman.”

He grunted, in a completely noncommittal way.

“They say…” She had come to stand at the doorway behind him.

Eyes still on his book, he interrupted, “Who are ‘they’?”

“Everyone. No one. The ladies at the local grocery store, the women in the post office, the mothers walking their babes in prams at the park.... I don't know - sometimes it seems the whole of Melbourne is fascinated by that woman.”

“...trouble…” he muttered.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch what you said?”

There was more muttering but no further elucidation.

She ignored him good naturedly. “They say she’s back, from wherever she disappeared to.”

He reached for the whiskey glass he had sitting on the small table beside him. “It's not true, she was flying her father to England, impossible to get there in this time, never mind there and back.” He took a sip, enjoying the way it hit the back of his throat. He pointedly returned to his book.

“They say…”

He interrupted again. “Sorry, is that the mothers, the babes or the prams?” he asked, as he put the glass back down on the small table.

“They say that she caught up with the boat somewhere in Asia, put her father on it, turned round and flew straight back with the wind behind her the whole way.”

“Why on earth would she do that?” He heard her move to the drinks cabinet, helping herself to a glass of whiskey.

“They say there’s a man…”

He made a dismissive sound, “With her - there’s always a man.”

She chuckled appreciatively as she made herself comfortable on the settee. “That is true. But they say, this one is different.”

“Well, I’m sure the ladies at the post office are best positioned to know the inner workings of Miss Fisher’s romantic entanglements.” He turned the page in his book. He could feel the weight of her eyes on him. He waited.

Toying with her glass, she asked, “Do you think she’ll come here?”

He closed his book, “Now, why would she do that?” He put the book on the small table and picked up his whiskey again. His eyes passed over her. In black trousers with a dark top and almost no make up; the overall effect was understated elegance, which was a look he admired very much.

“You know why. Do you think she’ll come here?”

“I don’t think of her at all,” he said.

“Liar.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I heard you bought a ticket, to follow her.”

He met her eyes, “You need to stop listening to gossip, the only useful thing to be found in a grocery store is bacon and eggs.”

“So, you don't have a ticket?”

His eyes flicked away for the briefest of moments.

“You do!”

He shrugged, dismissively, and asked, “What will we do if she turns up here?”

“Ah, good question.” She stared into her glass for a moment then raised her eyes to his. “I guess that depends. Do you want me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Here? Now?” she asked, hopefully.

“Yes.”

 She looked surprised at his answer. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she admitted.

“Have I disappointed you?” his voice was low and uncertain.

“What? No, of course not. I just thought I’d need to work harder. Somehow prove I was worthy.”

He laughed, clearly relieved, “What were you expecting? A quest?”

She joined his laughter, “I guess I was. How foolish of me.”

He finished his drink, stood and held out his hand for her empty glass. “Another?”

His back was to her  when she spoke again. “I think that, when a woman comes home after a long day, her man could at least sit beside her.”

He grinned at her words but by the time he turned around his expression was back to its normal unreadable best. He handed her a glass. She slipped her shoes off and curled her legs up on the settee. Once he sat she shuffled around, stretching out so her feet were in his lap. He let his hand rest on her leg just above the ankle. “Better?” he asked.

“Much,” she agreed, raising her glass in a silent salute before she took a sip.

His thumb moved in slow, wide arcs around her ankle as he returned the gesture. “What next?”

She put down her glass and angled her hip towards him, “Buttons.”

He leaned over to undo them but struggled with the small fastenings. “The fools that design women’s clothes seem intent on preventing men from removing them,” he grumbled. Laughing she swatted his hands away and undid them herself. She lifted her hips to shimmy out of the trousers and then he took over, slipping them over her delicate ankles, one foot at a time. She sat up and removed her top, letting it dangle from her hand as she lay back before dropping it on the floor. She was divine in deep blue french knickers and camisole. His eyes roamed over her body, noting her garter was dagger-free and that blue was now his favourite colour. “Actually, I heard a story about Miss Fisher and some policeman,” he said.  
  
She sniffed, “Everyones heard that.”  
  
“Maybe, but the way I heard it, the policeman was using investigations as an excuse to see her. They say that the two of them were meeting…” he glanced quickly from left to right, and lowered his voice, “at the morgue.”

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, “No! That’s so inappropriate.”

He nodded his head very seriously, “That’s exactly what I thought.”

“That woman is just scandalous. You should stay away from her.”

“Yes, you’re right." He put down his glass and held out his hand. "Come here?” She swung her legs away, took his hand and straddled his lap. He ran his hands down her arms and back up. “Your skin is like silk.” She shivered. His left hand continued up her neck to just below her ear as she tilted her head to give him better access. He moved his other hand to rest on her hip to both steady her and stop her from leaning into him.

With the tips of his fingers he traced back down her neck following the top edge of her camisole. It was deliciously intimate. She had said she hadn’t expected this tonight, but, as always with him, she had hoped, and now seemed a good time to make that clear. “I have my device in, so we needn't be concerned on that front.” His fingers stilled and she worried she had ruined the mood with her practicality. When he saw that she looked concerned, he grinned. “Sorry, until now I’ve never really considered what that means. On balance, I find myself very much in favour of it.”

Keen to keep things moving, her fingers went to his shirt and he nodded, so she began to undo the buttons, taking care not to touch the skin underneath because she was saving that for later. When she could go no further she felt his hand on her thigh give a gentle squeeze. She moved off him, so he could undress, which he did, completely. Two things occurred to her, firstly that her practicality had done nothing to dampen his ardour, which was admirable. And secondly, that she had to remove what little clothing she still had on because she needed to be skin to skin with this man. Now.

By the time he settled back on the settee she was naked too. He guided her back to straddle his lap, encouraging her to rest her weight on his legs rather than remain kneeling above him. She found it intoxicating to be this close to his body and not press herself against him. He must have read her mind because he brought her hands to his lips for a soft kiss. “My turn to be practical? If you touch me, this is going to be over way too soon.” He gave her a self deprecating smile that made it even harder for her not to grab him and kiss him within an inch of his life, instead she nodded and let her hands fall back to her sides.

Resting one hand on her thigh, his other returned to her throat tracing along the hollows, with each sweep increasing her sensitivity until she longed to feel his lips on her body. She swayed slightly. Then his fingers rested on the notch at the base of her throat before sweeping down between her breasts and coming to rest at her waist. She watched his eyes, dark and intense, as his hand inched up to just below her breast. She fought to stay still, to let him take his time - but it was not easy.

Finally, she felt the whisper of a touch on her breast, then his hand extended and cupped it. It felt exquisite and she made a gentle sound of appreciation which caused him to raise his eyes to hers. Whatever he saw there resulted in a smile. His eyes dropped back to where he held her. She watched his face, his mouth was open slightly as he took shallow breaths with his eyes fixed on the movement of his thumb which was now just short of her hard nipple. It was slow, tortuous, pleasure and exactly what she had always expected from him.

Then, the hand on her thigh moved. This unexpected change confused her senses and sent a jolt of lust through her body. His eyes were on her face now, reading clues in her reactions. So far, as his thumb stroked closer and closer to where her stance held her open, the response he was seeing was… extremely positive. As his thumb encountered the wetness between her legs, they made matching sounds of need and their eyes locked. He had barely begun to explore her when she placed her hands on his shoulders. “I wanted to take this slowly, to savour you completely but… I can’t.” He nodded his understanding, as she shifted her weight onto her knees and positioned herself above him.

He held himself steady for her, as she slowly lowered herself down - taking him into her body. His eyes closed, his head went back and a slow curse came unbidden from his mouth. She chuckled, “That, is exactly what I was thinking.” He opened his eyes a crack and smiled. Then, she started to move and his eyes shut again. She could see he was struggling to remain in control, and though she wasn’t far away herself he was closer. She reached for his hand on her thigh, and guided his fingers between her legs to her clitoris, showing him the speed and pressure she needed. When he took up the pace she kept her hand on top of his anyway. His other hand moved to her waist to stop her moving and, when she did, he swapped the position of their fingers so that she was now touching herself with his fingers sliding over top.

She could feel him deep inside her and the pleasure their hands were giving was too much, her back arched as she tensed around him and shuddered. Only half aware, she felt him grip her waist with both hands to hold her as he pumped up once or maybe twice before coming himself. She leaned into him, her forehead on the back of the settee above his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. And they were still.

Eventually he spoke, “Is this more than one night?”

“I certainly hope so - Asia is a hell of a long way to have come, Jack... just for one night.” He tightened his arms around her. "Anyway," she continued, "I can’t wait to hear what they say about you."

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks, as always, to solitary_cyclist ❤️❤️❤️


End file.
